


The Lost Companion

by RavenHairedPrincess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Sex, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 10:46:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenHairedPrincess/pseuds/RavenHairedPrincess
Summary: Hermione is staying at the Burrow for the winter holidays during her sixth year. An unexpected visitor gives Hermione a night she will always remember.





	The Lost Companion

**Author's Note:**

> This story is just for fun. All recognizable components belong to J.K. Rowling. No infringement intended.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with us, Hermione?” Ginny asked while pulling on her jacket. “I know you don’t like quidditch much, but it’ll still be fun.”

I smiled at her and held up my new book, “I’m sure, Gin.” My relationship with the only female Weasley had blossomed this past year with Dumbledore’s Army. We had bonded over the frequency with which we both found ourselves being the only female among many testosterone driven boys.

“Right,” Ginny sighed. “Well, we’ll be home sometime tomorrow afternoon. Try not to have too much fun without me.”

“I’ll try,” I laughed. “Have fun,” I said loudly to the Weasley clan and Harry as they made their way through the front yard of the Burrow on their way to the junior quidditch league championship.

“Finally!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed shaking her head. “You’ve no idea how long it is between the times I have the house to myself!” Mrs. Weasley must have notice the sheepish smile on my face as she continued, “Not to worry dear. If I had seven of you, my life would be a walk in the park. Besides, I hear you are of age already, if I’m not mistaken.” She shook a finger at me and smiled, “We’ll have wine tonight, I think.”

~~~~

After three glasses of wine, I stifled a yawn and set down my book. Mrs. Weasley was humming away to the song on the radio while soaking her feet in some sort of at home spa contraption. Mr. Weasley confiscated it during a raid one night and thought it would make the perfect anniversary gift. “I think I’m going to head up to bed, Mrs. Weasley. You were right. It was a relaxing evening. Thank you,” I said to her as I stood and stretched my arms over my head.

“Don’t forget to brush, dear,” Molly replied in a motherly fashion without opening her eyes.

“Of course. Goodnight,” I told her before heading up the stairs. 

~~~~~

I was up to use the restroom not two hours later. I heard voices coming from downstairs as I entered the hallway. My first instinct was to panic because of everything that was going on in the wizarding world, and everyone was supposed to be out of town. I silenced the creaky stairs as I crept down toward the voices coming from the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry to hear about your mother, dear. You were right not to try to apparate all that way in your condition,” I heard molly’s voice through the door. “Here,” she said, and I heard a low hissing sound. “How’d you manage to get yourself a black eye?”

I heard the unmistakable timber of Professor Snape’s voice, and I had to cover my mouth. “Bastard of a father…told him…his fault.” I swallowed hard as my mind tried to fill in the blanks.

Molly’s voice sounded again through the door. “And what did you do then?” she asked.

There was a long pause before he answered her, “Nothing. Old habits die hard…”. The pause that followed was awkward, as he suddenly decided not to finish his train of thought.

I heard a bit of shuffling, and then, “here. Pain potion and a sober up. Afraid I’m all out of healing paste, dear.”

“Thank you, but neither will be necessary. I’ll be on my way shortly,” he said politely.

My eyes widened at Molly’s tone when she spoke next, not so much at her words, but who she was directing them at. “Oh no you don’t, Severus. I’ll have none of that ‘I don’t want to impose’ business. Arthur took the kids to the quidditch junior championships, and we’ve plenty of empty beds, not to mention peace and quiet. You’re in no shape to apparate. It’s a miracle you didn’t splinch yourself just getting here.” Her tone softened, “besides, probably for the best you’re not alone tonight.”

“You must be right,” he conceded gruffly, “I’m in no mood to argue with you.” I could practically hear him shaking his head. “I’ll be gone before you wake.”

“Nonsense. They won’t be returning ‘till the afternoon. Second floor. First door on your right is the loo. Last door on the right is Percy’s old room. Least used room in the house anyway.” Percy had become quite a sore subject in the last six months, and I couldn’t imagine how she must feel about her tense relationship with her son.

I heard more shuffling and quickly scurried up the stairs and shut myself in Ginny’s room. I heard their voices drawing nearer as I stood with my forehead pressed to the door waiting for my heart to calm. “I’m off to bed. Make yourself at home, hun. Clean towels are under the sink.” Professor Snape grumbled something, and Molly’s footsteps receded down the stairs. A door clicked shut off to the left, and the sound of the shower running quickly followed.

I curled up in bed and tried to process the conversation I had just heard. Professor Snape’s mother died, perhaps by some preventable death. He blamed his father who then hit him, which was apparently not unusual. It seemed so awful, I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around it.

“Uh-…,” I heard what I could only describe as a sob from the bathroom next door, and my stomach clenched. The thought of Professor Snape crying made me queasy. I felt a helplessness that I had never felt before.

My mother’s voice sounded in my mind, “men are like black holes when I comes to emotions. When they cry, you know they must really be hurting.” I buried my face in my hands wishing I was anywhere else. I had cried many times in my life, I had seen Harry cry even, but this was different. I’d seen my dad cry only one time, and that was when grandma passed away. That still wasn’t quite the same because he had Mum. She stood next to him stroking his hair while he sat on the couch with his head in her vice-like grip against her chest. She was his comfort.

Professor Snape was alone with his pain. It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t lie there anymore, even though I had not heard another peep from the room next door. As I stood up, I heard the bathroom door open and held my breath. Gentle footsteps sounded past the door and into the room down the hall before I exhaled. My sudden nervousness caused me to change routes.

I left the bedroom and crept down to the kitchen as quietly as I could. I had intended on getting water, but the near full bottle of wine on the counter was too tempting. I sat at the table and chugged away trying to drown out my conflicting feelings. The downed glass of wine had me pacing in no time, and that inebriated feeling retuned to me from earlier. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but it was still better than the nagging feeling of sadness I felt not fifteen minutes before.

I dared to return to Ginny’s room with the bottle just in case I heard anything from the room next to mine. As I turned the handle I felt a gnawing at my stomach that was determined not to be ignored. Glancing further down the hall, I saw the door to Percy’s room was slightly ajar. I wondered what the hell I was doing when I pulled the healing paste from my bags in Ginny’s room and tiptoed back into the hallway. I’d kept a jar on me ever since the Umbridge fiasco, but this was certainly not how I had ever expected to use it.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself as I drew nearer knowing I was acting foolishly. The thought of random objects being hurled at my head didn’t seem to deter my staggering steps for some reason. With a shaky hand, I slowly pushed the door open to allow enough light through for me to see a figure sitting on the bed facing me. Professor Snape lifted his gaze to me with one hand clutching the edge of the mattress and the other holding what I assumed to be a bag of frozen veg to his left eye. I held my breath anticipating being barked at to leave him in peace, or misery as the case may have been; however, as I looked at his exposed eye, red and slightly swollen with evidence of his grief, I pressed on for better or worse.

He said nothing as I approached him quietly, but his eye followed my movement. Once I was within arm’s reach, I held out the bottle of merlot and fixed my eyes somewhere around his right knee. It was then that I was close enough to see he was only wearing trousers. Professor Snape sat before me shirtless and barefoot. I tried to ignore my mind attempting to file away the sparse, silky black hair circling his nipples, trailing down around his navel, and disappearing into his pants.

I jumped slightly as a grunt echoed in the room, and the bottle was taken out of my hand. At the acceptance of my peace offering, I risked looking at his face again. His eye closed as he tipped the bottle back. My focus was drawn to the movement of his Adam’s apple, and I bit my lip lost in the surreal experience of seeing him this unguarded. I remembered the jar in my hand as I clutched it tightly. I unscrewed the lid when he brought the bottle down and leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. I wondered how best to approach helping him. He hadn’t thrown me out yet; that was a start.

Sensing his gaze focused on me, my hand trembled setting the lid down on the nightstand. I took a generous scoop with two fingers and turned back to him apprehensively. Had I lost my mind? Was I about to be bitten by this wounded stray? If I was, I’d have no one to blame but myself. Cursing my hand for its unsteadiness, I reached up to the frozen bag of veg he was holding to his face. I hesitated long enough to allow protest, but none came. He slowly lowered his hand.

His skin was softer than I expected, but my attention was now on the purple pool of blood under the skin of his left eye. He exhaled audibly as if in defeat, and I was further intoxicated by the earthy, sweet smell of red wine swirling in the air between us. I carefully rubbed the cream around his battered socket. His lashes were long and lush, and quickly I quashed the jealousy that knotted in my gut.

Severus Snape was not a ‘pretty boy’, by any means, but he was definitely tall, dark, and mysterious. He was the bad boy of the Order, not to mention incredibly powerful and intelligent. A tear gliding saliently down his cheek distracted me from my thoughts, and he hung his head in an apparent attempt to hide his pain, his vulnerability. I lifted his chin with my other hand in order to apply the last of the paste and couldn’t help but inhale sharply as his hand came in contact with my hip.

Assuming he was steadying himself, I did the same and let my fingers slide from his eye back toward his ear, cupping his cheek to help ground myself. He leaned into my hand slightly, and I felt his thumb move slowly back and forth at the hem of my shirt. The feathery light touch of his skin on mine made my stomach flutter. I thought about the disaster my love life had been so far this year. Between McClaggen and Ronald, I felt at my wit’s end with boys, but this was not a boy who was making my heart race.

His deep voice reverberated in my bones interrupting my thoughts. “You should return to your room,” he said straightening out his arm as if to push me away. His grip on me tightened somewhat, however. His eyes were fixed on the little sliver of my stomach exposed to the cool night air just above the waist of my flannel pants.

I stood there frozen until he looked up at me. I thought I saw conflicting emotions; fear, pain, need, and perhaps self-loathing. I worried I was projecting as I could easily empathize with all of those feelings. “Yes, of course,” I agreed in a whisper. I could not bring my feet to carry me away from him though. Without giving it any thought, I drew my wand and pointed it toward the door, quietly shutting and locking it. I looked back at him just in time to see his pupils dilate slightly before closing his eyes. It was the first time I had actually seen them. They were a rich chocolate, one so bitter it would be considered unpalatable by most.

Before I lost the courage, I took a step even closer to him, wedging myself between his knees. His hand never left my side, but he looked at me fretfully. This was by far the most expressive I had ever seen this man. He spoke again sounding more horse this time, “this is a very bad idea, Miss Granger.” His words contradicted the continued caressing of my sensitive skin.

“Yes,” I agreed again, but moved closer still, the outsides of my thighs pressed to the insides of his. I was only slightly taller than him while he sat on the bed, so I hung my head and waited for him to take the invitation to kiss me. I wasn’t sure why in that moment, but I was sure I wanted him. I hadn’t told anyone about sleeping with Victor before he returned to Bulgaria after the tournament. It was no one’s business but my own. He had been surprisingly sweet and patient. I had been happy it hurt very little, perhaps because he did get my heart racing. I realized that he did have some things in common with Professor Snape that I did not notice before. Perhaps he was my type, but I had so blindly cast him into the role of professor that I had not been able to see him for anything else until just moments ago.

My stomach fluttered again when his thumb dipped down just inside the waistband of my pajama pants. Deciding I was done with his indecision, risking being rejected, I bent further down and pressed my lips to his. He stiffened initially, but began to move his mouth with mine. I hummed my approval. His lips were warm and soft, a delicious contradiction to his cold, hard personality. I wondered how many people knew what his lips felt like. It was a heady thought that made my knees trembled. Trying to take back the slight advantage I had just moments ago, I grabbed his hand from my hip and slid it upwards until our hands were over my shirt covered breast.

I felt him take in a sharp breath against my mouth, and I squeezed my hand over his giving him permission to touch, to indulge. Several moments later, he tentatively kneaded my breast. I encouraged him by moaning into his mouth. Simultaneously, I felt him bite my lower lip and softly tease my nipple through my shirt. An embarrassing mewling sound escaped me. I knew I sounded like a wonton whore, but the throbbing between my legs was becoming painful, and I could feel wetness soaking through my panties. Evidently, my vocal approval was what he needed. Professor Snape abruptly abandoned my breast and grabbed me by the hips pushing me back, so he could stand. I felt myself being turned around and pressed backwards onto the bed.

I flopped down on the pillow and watched him crawl his way around to straddle my knees. The room was so dark; I could only just make out the glitter of lust in his eyes. I was just as frightened in that moment as I was aroused. Was I really going to do this? Was I going to let Professor Snape fuck me, in Percy’s bed of all places, and with Mrs. Weasley just a floor below? Yes, my mind screamed as he lowered himself on top of me. He nudged my head to the side and bit at my neck. It was the first time I felt his erection. It was pressed menacingly, albeit promisingly against the inside of my thigh. It felt quite large, and my mind started questioning my judgment again.

Am I in over my head here? I’ve only had sex once before, and while Victor was still a boy by most standards, Snape was definitely a fully grown wizard. Our parts are supposed to fit together, I admonished myself. He was by far the youngest member of the staff at Hogwarts, but I also thought he was the least likely to take a student to bed. Yet here I was with him, never having dreamed of sleeping with a professor for any reason. Gods what would my mother say? What would the boys say?

My train of thought stopped abruptly when he shifted his weight to the side and slid his hand down between my breasts stopping only briefly when he hit the waist band of my pants. His hand caressed my lower abdomen with a velvet touch that left me panting. “Shhh,” he whispered against my lips before taking my mouth again. Once his tongue was playfully coaxing mine into his mouth, he eased his way into my panties drawing lazy circles in my soft hair.

Having his hand so close to my sex was maddening. I lifted my hips toward him in impatience, but a deep sexy chuckle was all I got from him. The thought that he might wind me up and kick me out occurred to me, and I acted quickly on instinct out of fear and need. Reaching across I cupped as much of the bulge in his pants as I could and started rubbing slowly up and down. I felt his body jerk in response, and he bit at my lip once more before working his fingers down into the wet mess in my knickers. I could feel him smirk against my lips at the slip and slide that was happening under his hand. It was so shameful I almost panicked and jumped out of the bed.

“Naughty minx,” he mumbled between sucking and biting. I wanted to protest that it wasn’t fair for a women with sexual needs to be considered as such, but my lady parts were of a different mind. Hearing Professor Snape utter the word ‘naughty’ while we were so intimately touching each other left my pussy aching to be filled with any part of him. His fingers were so close, circling the outside with the flat pads of his fingers spreading my own need around like some sort of filthy genital lotion. The brief light nudges at my clit were making me jump and jerk like a malfunctioning jackhammer.

Knowing I wouldn’t be able to take his teasing much longer, I lifted up and tugged my pants down. He was obliging and helped me ease my pants and knickers down the rest of the way and off my feet all while yanking the blanket loose from under us. He came back up to look at me pulling the blanket over us both and rested his hand back on my stomach. His eyes were searching, perhaps to see if I wanted a way out. I most certainly did not, so I grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled him down to lick at his slightly swollen lips. When I finally felt him probing me, I thrust up into his hand easily taking in his finger. He withdrew it slowly, but not all the way. I felt a pleasurable stretching when he pushed back into me. Somehow, he added a finger without me fully realizing it. Having Professor Snape’s long dexterous fingers inside me made me quiver. He used his thumb to rub my clit in a slow yet firm back and forth motion as he curled his fingers inward pressing on my gspot.

When I gasped at my impending orgasm, he took the opportunity to thrust his tongue in my mouth. My body pulsed, and I felt myself contract around his digits rapidly, squeezing him, trying to bring him in further. He gently pulled his fingers apart, leaving me reeling in the devilish stretching sensation. He was stretching me to accommodate him, I figured. His moan of pleasure at my own milked my orgasm to a slowly dissipating ripple. I had been far too nervous with Victor to climax. I figured I was worried about the upcoming pain, but then again, I wasn’t drunk on wine either. By the end, we were rutting in a sweaty mess. It was pleasurable, for sure, but this felt decidedly different. I was being prepped for a difficult exam; how much of your professor’s cock can you take? I was apprehensive to say the least.

I was only vaguely aware that he had unbuttoned and unzipped his pants while I was coming down from my orgasm. It wasn’t until I caught my breath that I realized he was stroking himself under the blanket with the hand he had just pleasured me with. The thought of him rubbing my release on himself reignited the fire within me. I put my hand on his, fingers threading through his own to feel the satin skin beneath; warm and silky, rippled with engorged veins. Realizing my fingers barely reached all the way around, I looked up at him a little worried.

His eyes were locked on my chest rising and falling, even thought my breasts were still hidden under my shirt. He almost looked as if he was contemplating something, and then he removed his hand leaving me to do with his genitals as I pleased. As he moved his hand back between my legs, I took the chance to cup his balls. The hair around them was soft and silky, and I had to fight the urge to pet them like a cute furry animal. He surprised me by working his fingers back into my wet heat, but only briefly before withdrawing. His hand snaked up under my shirt, and I inhaled sharply as his wet fingers circled my already erect nipples.

My mind whirled. Had Victor done something so seemingly vulgar, I may have slapped him. Was I allowing Professor Snape to do such a thing because I felt I couldn’t say no to him? I considered it as he rolled one of my nipples back and forth between his fingers. No, that didn’t seem right. My body was obviously reacting to him positively. Had I grown into a more sexually…open young woman? Perhaps. Did I want to know what made Professor Snape aroused? Absolutely. I was content in my conclusion that curiosity, need, and perhaps my own maturing were why I was allowing him to smear my own sexual secretions on my breasts.

Feeling sure of myself, I glided my hand back up around his impossibly thick shaft. His cock felt wider than Victor’s by a good third. That was my best guess without having a proper look at it at least. Curious, as I had only touched the lower half of it thus far, I pulled my hand up it loosely and realized he was not circumcised. Victor had been, and he’d let me look for as long as I wanted before getting down to business. I knew asking such a thing of this man that I had by the cock, as it were, would sour the mood. Instead I trailed my thumb up over the ridge of his head and found the tip wet.

Gods, I had Snape’s precum on my hand. The urge to touch myself almost made me giggle. The realization that we both seemed transfixed by each other’s wetness grounded me. I knew I caused that little bit of cum to leak out of him. I had excited him enough to make that happen. Touching me excited him. He obviously like having his fingers stuffed inside of my writhing body. It was serious food for the ego. Was that what he was thinking about when he was slipping his fingers through my need; my desire for him? I felt a sudden embarrassment knowing he knew how aroused I was by him.

His hand trailed down my stomach, and he finally met my eyes. Slowly, he pushed my shirt up over my breasts. I may have felt a little self conscious had he not continued holding my gaze. I shivered at the cool air swirling around my bare chest. It was then that he leaned down and took one taut nipple into his mouth. The warmth put me back at ease, until he moved to lap at the other nipple. It was then that I realized what he was doing. Salazar’s Slippery Slytherins! He could taste me. He had spread my wetness over my breasts, and now he was gorging on a Hermione flavored buffet.

I groaned at his sinful desire, and he locked eyes with me once again, never leaving my nipple. Threading my fingers roughly through his hair, I encouraged him to get his fill. Nipping at my nipple, he hummed in satisfaction. It was tasty praise from him, and I was unlikely ever to get it again. I savored it, cementing it into memory. Gods, the thought of his gusto being directed between my legs, suckling at my clit, overtook the sight of him nursing from my breast like a starved infant. Once sated, he kissed his way up my chest and buried his face in my neck maneuvering his body up and over mine to settle between my legs.

“Slowly, please,” I rasped realizing I hadn’t said anything this whole time. He nodded against me and drew my earlobe into his mouth. Sucking gently, he positioned himself at my eager core. The feel of his hot member nudging my clit made me tremble with anticipation. It was the most intimately two people could be touching; sex organs rubbing against one another. It was completely and undoubtedly inappropriate to be touching this way. I trusted him, however. His slow push was met with my body’s natural resistance, and I whimpered at the sensation. Another steady shift of his hips and the head of his penis was fully enveloped inside of me.

It was definitely a stretch but a good one. Feeling less afraid I rocked my hips up toward his taking in another inch. The quiet whimper he tried to stifle let me know he was feeling as squeezed as I felt stretched. Releasing my ear, he reached one arm up under me and grasped my shoulder to hold me firmly in place. He withdrew slightly and pushed himself further into me, and I was suddenly grateful for his hold on me. The resistance was incredible, and if he hadn’t had me pinned beneath him, I’d have been sliding up the bed into the headboard for sure. Rocking in and out gently, I felt myself accepting him more easily. Another inch of him was buried within my body. How many was that? How much more was there? Gods, I felt like a turkey being stuffed.

As he worked his way into my throbbing pussy, I wondered how the other women he’s been with had felt. Had there been many or just a few? Had he slept with a student before? Had he ever thought of me before this evening? Question after question was buzzing around in my mind until I felt the head of his penis finally hit the back of me. The sensation startled me. I had not experienced that with Victor. He held me still, licking and biting at my neck for a while. I was glad for the intermission, as my vagina was staining slightly in its overexerted state. He shifted his weight and his pelvis rubbed hard against my clit.

A loud moan came from deep within me, and my mouth was quickly covered by one of his hands. It smelled like my own sex. I would have found it degrading had it not been so wildly erotic. Remembering the risk we were taking of being caught heightened my sensitivity. As he rocked himself harder and harder into me, his grip on my mouth became firmer. It was so scandalous, being fucked by Professor Snape and essentially gagged at the same time to prevent Molly Weasley from suspicion. His movements were slow and sure. Long strokes with a circular motion at the end to stimulate my clit were employed, and I felt like a planned out sacrifice to his baser needs. Shamefully, I did not mind. I craved it.

As his thrust became more erratic and forceful, my moans became louder. His hand over my mouth tightened. The thought of being Professor Snape’s dirty little secret sent me over the edge one last time. I pulsed and squeezed his cock, my walls wanting to take every last drop of his seed. He slowly regained his senses and released my mouth, but he remained buried within my hot wet cunt.

Eventually he rolled over onto his back, and I watched his chest raise and fall as his breathing returned to a normal steady rhythm.

~~~~

Professor Snape’s was the last service of the day. I excused myself from my seat between the boys and made my way to the back. There were so many people there to celebrate the lives of those we’d lost, that I was able to get out of the crowd unnoticed. I made my way to the closest castle wall where I could still see the service. I couldn’t hear, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t understand what I was feeling; I just knew it took my breath away. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes trying to catch my breath.

“Overwhelming isn’t it?” asked a familiar voice. Minerva McGonagall came to stand at my side to overlook the service. “All the loss. Severus was like a son to me. I turned my back on him. I’ll never be able to apologize for that,” she said remorsefully.

For some reason that made my tears flow again. “No. He’ll never know.” I spoke through swallowing gulps of air. “It’s not fair. I thought, once it was all over...I’d be able to show him. But he’s gone. How are we supposed to live with that? I wish I hadn’t...” my words were lost somewhere between my mind and the world around me.

The older woman turned to me and asked, “show him what, Miss Granger? What are you talking about, dear?” After several moments of my silence, she said, “you’re grief seems different from the other’s. Why?”

I looked up to her and shook my head. I had never spoken of that night to anyone. How could I? I swallowed hard and looked at the ground in front of me.

“Talk to me, Hermione,” she said, but it almost sounded like a question.

“I slept with him,” I answered quietly not looking up from my shoes.

“When?” Minerva asked trying not to sound livid. “When did this happen?”

I shook my head again but answered her, “I was of age. It was over the winter holiday during my sixth year.”

“You were still a student, regardless of your age,” she said disapprovingly. “And then you came back from break and were in his classroom under his authority,” Minerva huffed. “I know from firsthand experience how inappropriate that is. I don’t blame you for it, though.”

“No, that’s not fair. He-,” I stopped short. “I was the one who came to him. If anything, I pushed him, and he was intoxicated. Not only that, he didn’t know.” The older witch looked confused. “What do you mean, he didn’t know? Was he unconscious?” “No, after we-…, well he fell asleep. And as I watched him sleeping there, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the sacrifices he’d made, and all that he had to hide from Voldemort. I felt selfish for what I did. I couldn’t stand the thought of being yet one more burden for him. Before I left him there asleep, I erased his memory,” I said crying hysterically. “He didn’t even know we had sex. He didn’t remember me coming into his room to comfort him. His mother had just died, and I wanted to comfort him, but afterwards, I couldn’t leave letting him remember. It was too much of a risk. What would have happened had anyone found out? Dumbledore? Voldemort? What would have happened to him? What would have happened to me and Harry? What if it changed the war?” I stopped only because I ran out of breath.

“Oh dear,” Minerva said putting her arm around my shoulders, “I can’t believe you’ve been carrying this around with you for so long. Oh, and I can’t imagine how you must have felt after Dumbledore-,” she stopped as I sobbed louder into her robes. “You poor thing.”

She let me cry until I got it all out. As the service concluded and the crowd started to disperse, she said, “I think Mr. Weasley might take your mind off things. You should be with friends. My door is always open if you need to talk.” She walked back toward the entrance hall after I nodded in appreciation. I waited while I watched Ron approach me. My stomach turned realizing he was going to want to talk about his brother.

He didn’t mention Fred, though. He just reached out to take my hand and lead me back into the castle. Half way there he spoke, “must have been awful, you know. Having everyone turn their backs on him at once,” he shook his head. I looked at him with confusions, but he continued, “never lost his way either. Hell, I lost my way, and I had you and Harry. Can’t help but feel humbled, you know? I suppose that’s his last lesson for us though, isn’t it?”

I smiled at him. I knew there was hope for him still. “I’m going to look for my parents on Friday. Would you like to join me?”

“Of course,” he said looking shocked. “It’s about time I had a bloody vacation.” He laughed with me as we made our way into the great hall for our last feast. For the first time in a year and a half, something felt right.


End file.
